


White Stripes, White Tiles

by mssdare



Category: Girls (TV), Peter Rabbit (2018), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, HBO Girls - Freeform, Kitchen Sex, Lace Panties, M/M, PWP, Peter Rabbit - Freeform, Porn, Stockings, accidental feels, kylux adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:23:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssdare/pseuds/mssdare
Summary: Adam expected Thomas to be in his silky robe, brewing coffee and spreading jam on toast for both of them, but the robe is nowhere in sight. Instead, Thomas is wearing white lace thong panties that display his bare ass in the most luxurious way, and long black-and-white striped socks, stockings really, as they end in the middle section of his thighs.





	White Stripes, White Tiles

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my Twitter Friends who talk about McSackler and other Kylux adjacent pairings daily and I love them for that! 
> 
> Inspired by this video on: [ PornHub](https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5c02d5d7d4ab0)  
> It’s porn, obviously, so click at your own risk.  
> (It’s a sweet, quite vanilla fuck, so I guess you’re safe if you like boys fucking, panties and long socks/stockings. It’s also, undisputedly, modern Kylux (or Kylux adjacent) fucking, so enjoy!)
> 
> Thank you Sillygoose for the fastest beta in the world on this one!

 

Adam pads into Thomas’s kitchen barefoot and in just his grey T-shirt, no underwear, because he doesn’t give a fuck about decency, not really. It’s not like Thomas hasn’t seen his dick before. He had said dick buried deep up his ass throughout most of last night, and for the better part of the last two weeks they have spent together in Thomas’s farmhouse in the middle of nowhere in the UK.

Adam just wants to drink some juice and then go back to bed for more sleep and lazing around—he’s in between acting gigs and wants to cherish this free time as much as he can—but he stops dead in the kitchen doorway at the sight of Thomas. He expected Thomas to be in his silky robe, brewing coffee and spreading jam on toast for both of them, but the robe is nowhere in sight. Instead, Thomas is wearing white lace thong panties that display his bare ass in the most luxurious way, and long black-and-white striped socks, stockings really, as they end in the middle section of his thighs. Thighs that are… that are _indecent_ , _divine_ , milky white and smooth. Adam wants to drop to his knees and worship them, put his lips and tongue to every single inch of the fair skin.

And, honestly, Adam can’t really help but grab Thomas from behind and push him urgently towards the wall to knead the milky soft flesh of Thomas’s buttocks that are on display for him. He pushes the tiny panties Thomas has on his little ass down, rolls them halfway to Thomas’s thighs so they meet the stockings’ edge, creating an additional line on Thomas’s thighs, and brings Thomas closer to where Adam’s own dick is standing huge and proud, leaking for Thomas already.

“All right,” Thomas says, agreeing, as if he hasn’t dressed specifically for _this_ , as if he just likes to parade around his kitchen in the morning like this, ass on display and cock hard, peeking out of the front of that lace.

Adam grips Thomas’s ass-cheeks again, spreads them wide to see the perfect little hole there, still a little bit puffy from last night’s long fuck. He spits and spreads the saliva around the hole, making Thomas arch and moan. Adam leans down and licks Thomas’s hole once, then again, lapping at the sensitive flesh there over and over like he’s starving, all the time spreading Thomas’s cheeks for better display, so he can lick Thomas inside, push his tongue in as far as he can, moan at the sensation of the heat and the scent of Thomas. He fondles Thomas’s balls, taking each of them into his mouth, rolling his tongue around the velvet soft skin, closing his eyes at the sensation.

He moves back up when Thomas starts wriggling too hard, his hand already closed tight over his dick. Adam slaps his cock several times over the flesh of Thomas’s ass. God, were it possible he’d devour Thomas whole to prevent anyone else from touching him, hurting him, having him.

Thomas whines when Adam’s dick breaches his hole. It slips in slowly, Adam giving Thomas time to adjust. Everything is still slick, lubed up well inside and slightly sticky from earlier, but still Adam goes slow at first. He fucks Thomas shallowly against the kitchen wall, going only a little deeper with each gentle thrust.

Thomas’s hands are placed flat on the wall and Adam grips one of Thomas’s wrists, brings it behind Thomas’s back, pushing harder into him at the same time.

“Yes,” Thomas says, laying his cheek against the wall. He’ll have a red spot on his cheekbone later if he keeps it there, so Adam places his other hand between the wall and Thomas’s face to protect him, slips his fingers into Thomas’s mouth so he has something to suck and bite on. Thomas loves to have his mouth stuffed during sex, with cock, fingers, a gag—anything he can close his lips around, to keep him from shouting out, from breathing in too deeply.

Adam fucks him deeper and faster now, placing one of his feet on a nearby chair to change the angle of the thrusts, to get as deep as he can. His T-shirt is getting soaked with his sweat. Thomas’s skin is hot against Adam’s hips when he meets Thomas’s ass with his thrusts. Thomas moans around Adam’s fingers and pushes back, his hand flying over his own dick. Thomas’s impossibly green eyes are open, but he seems to be unaware of his surroundings, his brown-red hair is in disarray, ass-cheeks and hips reddened from where Adam’s gripping him.

“You’re so beautiful.” It slips out of Adam’s mouth before he can stop himself, but Thomas’s breath catches and— _oh_ —here it is again, that “I’m on the edge of sanity” look that Adam knows so well already.

He suspects there’s something wrong with Thomas—something a good fuck can’t cure, and maybe even a good relationship won’t cure either. Even now as they are reaching completion, Adam can see that odd gleam in Thomas’s eyes as he looks at Adam over his shoulder, the flame burning inside Thomas that threatens a wildfire coming. It’s as if Thomas is always on the verge of snapping, falling into an abyss, and Adam isn’t sure he’ll be able to catch him before the fall.

“Shh,” Adam says, leaving Thomas’s wrist and grabbing a handful of Thomas’s hair, pulling lightly so Thomas has to look him straight in the eyes. “I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t, not really, but he _wants_ to. He wants to have Thomas in every single aspect he can think of. He wants him in his life as a partner, companion, lover—a _husband_. He won’t say it because it would freak Thomas out for sure. They’ve known each other for only two weeks. Adam’s here just on an impromptu holiday, doing a favor for his colleague, taking care of Bea’s house while she’s away on an art tour. She’d mentioned Thomas briefly—a relationship that hadn’t worked out, and fuck, does Adam know about those.

What she didn’t mention was how hot and gorgeous Thomas is, how beautiful when he’s angry, how perfect when he’s hot and on the verge of coming, how _soft_ when he’s drinking his evening tea wrapped in a blanket with a book in his hand.

Adam squeezes his eyes, thrusts harder into Thomas’s tight ass, says, “You want this? You want this?” He doesn’t wait for Thomas to answer before he’s pumping Thomas’s ass full of his seed again, buried deep and shaking, biting Thomas’s shoulder to stop himself from screaming. He covers Thomas’s hand over his dick then, wraps his huge fingers around Thomas’s slender ones and squeezes, stroking Thomas’s dick like this until Thomas cries out and spills too on the floor.

They’re lying on the kitchen tiles later, spent, Adam’s spunk already trickling slowly out of Thomas’s used hole. Thomas had handed Adam his negative lab-test results on the second day after they’d met.

“I want to see yours,” he’d said as if it was normal, as if everyone just carried a copy of their STD tests results in their wallets in case of a casual fuck. But Adam did have his results—he still gets tested each month—and as he handed them to Thomas something flickered between them, something more than just mutual attraction, something that seemed way closer to _understanding_.

Adam grabs Thomas and pulls him towards his chest, engulfing him in his arms. He’s lain on the floor after sex so many times before, with various people, but none of those times felt quite like this. He’s had his share of affairs in his life too, he’s had relationships where he wanted to be the savior, like with Thomas now, and he knows it won’t work. It has never worked. He doesn’t remember in which sentimental movie or a book he read that two wrongs can’t make a right, but he wants to make it work this time. That’s him—he’s wrong, he’s damaged, he’s a survivor, he’s a brave heart, he’s violent and emotional, but he knows he’s a _good man_ , even if people don’t get him. He’s what he is, and he won’t apologize for it. But Thomas has never even judged him once, has never attempted to change him—he’s just welcomed Adam in this strange way that seems cold and uninviting but at the same it’s the most acceptance Adam has ever felt in his life.

“I need to go back to London,” Adam says into Thomas’s hair, and Thomas stiffens.

“All right,” he says and sits up. His porcelain skin is covered in red patches and bruises, all Adam’s fault.

Adam sits up too. The kitchen tiles feel very cold under his bare ass and he shivers. His cock has stuck to his thigh and he winces when the crusted come pulls on the delicate skin. He looks at Thomas who’s sitting stiffly, his gaze far away.

“I’ll pack you that tea you liked,” Thomas says, slowly getting up. There’s artwork on the wall above his head—a framed set of Scrabble tiles arranged together in the words “ALONE,” “ABANDON,” “LOST,” and “BROKEN,” and somehow Adam thinks that they’re matching the way Thomas looks right now. His white lace panties are a small sad crumpled pile on the floor next to him, forgotten, and his stockings are pooled around his ankles like shed skin.

“What?” Adam says. “Fuck, no. I don’t need the tea. I was…” Fuck, he’s so bad at this. Thomas looks like he’s going to break, and Adam can’t let this happen. This is not what he meant. “I’ll be away for just one day. I just wanted to ask if I could stay here a little longer, maybe. With you.”

“Oh,” Thomas says. He looks bewildered, and for a moment Adam’s heart stops. Because what if he’s misjudged everything. What if he’s not welcomed? But then Thomas smiles, and he’s got the most beautiful smile in the world, his perfect lush lips spread and his white, even teeth on display, and Adam just has to take a step closer, cradle Thomas’s head in his hands, stroke his cheekbones and then kiss him gently, and then kiss him again and again.

 


End file.
